It was Silent
by Kay Elle Hunter
Summary: Two friends sit alone in a room as they wait for their best friend to return from the most important fight of the war.…It was silent…A different style of fic RonHermione


_a different style fic... _

_DISCLAIMER: I own nothing people. Not a bit!_

**It was Silent**: By Kay Elle Hunter

It was silent.

The room was dark and empty but for two occupants who sat on opposite sides, not looking at each other, not even sensing the other's presence but instead creating such closure alone that it was impossible to understand. The world was at war but neither seemed to have a train of thought towards what may be happening. No, for both had given up on the worry, both had disclosed themselves from the reality that caused sadness to swoop down upon them. Where their best friend was, they didn't know. They only hoped, without expression, that he would live through it all; the war would come to an end if he did … or at least they hoped…

It was silent.

Why these two beings weren't talking to each other at that moment, it was hard to tell. Perhaps they feared that if a word were spoken between them they would be struck with a truth neither of them could bear. Or maybe they were forcing themselves away from something that didn't seem right to encourage at such a state of time. They chose to ignore the other to discourage what was long awaited and meant to be.

It was silent.

Long, thick, bushy hair glistened in the firelight, the brown shades delicately turning to gold in the right places. It moved slightly as the owner made a movement but the young woman did not turn around and look at the back of the person she shared the room with. No, it seemed she had gathered enough strength and effort to grab a small book from the table in front of her.

A yarn escaped the young man as he looked out the window, his thoughts elsewhere entirely. No sound appeared to escape him as he gave that great breath and he continued with his gazing, the blue depths of his eyes staring blankly at something in the night's sky – a star perhaps or maybe nothing at all.

It was silent.

The sky was filled with swirling cloud; the Mark that had haunted it earlier had faded to become nothing. Somewhere out there a boy – a young man – stood, facing his darkest enemy but his best friends had no way of knowing that he stood completely alive.

His best friends had no way of knowing that he would be returning to the room in which they sat by dawn.

It was silent.

A swish of long brown hair occurred as the young woman turned to look at her friend, the silence perhaps becoming unbearable for her to witness. The thoughts of what could be happening becoming too much to predict or understand. She watched as her friend leant forward, the candlelight reflecting the colour of his hair, so fiery on the soft texture.

"He'll be okay," she whispered.

The air was still.

Still…

…It was silent.

"He'll prove he's the hero."

Her friend gave a brief nod and continued to stare out the window at the forever-darkening sky. No reply escaped him. Maybe due to his own fear.

She stood to move closer to his sitting figure.

"He'll live to save the day, Ron," she said lightly, kneeling in front of him, bringing his attention to her. "He'll be okay; he'll prove he's the hero."

"Everything will go back to normal." The reply was whispered to her honest and full of belief.

There was a nod of reply, a slip of a tear from a feminine eye, and the air became still again.

It was silent.

One tear was followed by many, reckless sobs punctured the silence but still the room, the air that surrounded them, the hope within their very selves made no move to stop them.

A hand coming to support her cheek caused it all to stop. There was a sweep of a thumb across the damp surface that would normally be so smooth. A murmur of unidentifiable words followed and then a light nod.

Fingers ran through the thick mass of hair, there was another stroke of the occupant's slim jaw line and a reassuring whisper – one full of heart and care, one full of heat and desire.

The figure in the chair slowly leant down and kissed his friend's cheek, murmuring her name in the process.

"Hermione." The name left his lips as they swept towards her ear. "He'll be fine; he'll live through this; it's his war to win."

His breath tickled her skin and sent tingles down her spine. A moan, one low in the throat, escaped her and filled the still air as his lips moved back up the side of her cheek to attend to the lips they had been yearning to meet for eternity.

A kiss: light, soft and awkward as first-kisses are expected.

A kiss: full of love, full of care … full of passion and tension.

A tap on the glass of the window broke the long-awaited intimacy. There was a flutter of an owl's wings and then another impatient tap. The lovers were forced to draw back.

The window was slowly opened and a letter was taken:

_He's gone._

_- Harry _

The writing held an expression of exhaustion but triumph at the same time – I triumph in which the world had been yearning towards for too long.

A small smile reached the reader's lips and he passed it to the girl who was now holding his hand, showing the affection both needed.

The letter discarded to the side, a kiss was shared, as were an exchange of words of love and promise and relief.

The numb buzz of nothingness reoccupied the air and the room it filled … a room so still … so existent … so peculiar to those looking in … a room in a world of it's own…

_It was silent._


End file.
